Good Girl Gone Wild
by TraceyI
Summary: Hermione decides that she's a good girl who likes bad boys. AU, takes place in 7th year, HGDM. Rated M, and I mean it!
1. Ch 1, Good Girl Gone Wild

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

I do not own the Harry Potter universe. But you probably knew that. This is a work of fan fiction, and no infringement of any intellectual property rights is intended. Ironically, this work is derivative of both the work of J.K. Rowling and the derivative works of other fan fiction authors. I mean no harm to those authors, either.

I have read a number of stories of the "Hermione decides to shed her good girl image and shag Malfoy" variety. It occurs to me, with my many, many years of experience as a good girl who likes really bad boys, that in a perfect alternate universe, it should go something like this.

AU, takes place in seventh year. Let's pretend the whole tried-to-kill-Dumbledore-but-totally-wussed-out thing never happened, shall we? DMHG.

I'll decide whether this is a one-off after I get some feedback, so the ball is now officially in your court.

* * *

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

"So, Granger," Malfoy smirked as he backed into the compartment from the hallway, lugging his trunk, "since we're in the Heads' Compartment, are you going to give me head?"

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing, Malfoy," came the completely unexpected response.

Draco Malfoy stood up and spun around quickly. "Sweet Merlin," he whispered.

There sat Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Head Girl, Gryffindor princess, member of the Golden Trio, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, insufferable know-it-all, and mudblood. She wore a black leather miniskirt with a silver chain draping artfully from it and a short black leather vest that exposed her midriff. The two pieces of the front of the vest were held together – barely – by a series of silver rings that matched the chain on the skirt. About an inch of tan, bare skin showed between the two halves of the vest, and it was clear that she wore nothing under it, her breasts defying gravity. Her long legs, clad in spike-heeled black leather lace-up boots, were crossed provocatively at the knees. Her wild brown hair, which previously had been such a turn-off to him, now had highlights of blond and was shot through in a few places with streaks of blood red, and her curls trailed halfway down her back in a perfectly choreographed dance of color and texture.

While Malfoy looked her over, Hermione took the opportunity to return the favor. She noticed with approval that his hair had grown longer, almost touching the collar of his leather duster and with a few sexy sprigs hanging almost to his eyes. She ran her eyes up and down his entire body, nodding appreciatively at his toned muscles. She estimated that he was fast approaching 6' 3".

Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Head Boy, Slytherin sex god, and pure blood wizard, staggered and cracked his head on the doorway as the train lurched forward. The door started to slide shut but bounced back off Malfoy's trunk.

Hermione rolled her eyes and uncrossed her legs languidly. She pulled her wand out of . . . actually, Draco didn't see where she had been concealing her wand. She pointed it at his trunk and muttered a spell, causing it to fly up to the luggage rack. The train lurched again, gathering speed for the northward journey, and the cabin door slid shut. Hermione turned her attention back to Malfoy. "You still alive, Malfoy?" she asked.

Malfoy pulled himself upright, struggling to regain his dignity. He ran a hand through his blond mane, having just managed to pull the hand out of the doorway as the door crashed shut. "Nice outfit, Mudblood," was all he could manage.

Hermione got to her feet and crossed to where Malfoy stood. Malfoy breathed heavily as he realized that the silver ring motif was repeated several times in each of the witch's earlobes and her navel. The erection he hadn't noticed before twitched. "I'm glad you like it, Malfoy," she drawled, placing her hand provocatively on his chest. "I wore it just for you."

A breath hissed from between Draco's teeth. At least that's what he thought the sound was.

"Granger, Malfoy!" exclaimed the unmistakable Scottish voice of Professor McGonagall. "What are you two doing?" The sound had apparently been the compartment door sliding open.

Hermione stepped back. "Hello, Professor McGonagall." She smiled innocently. "Malfoy tripped coming into the compartment. I was just helping him to his feet." Draco surreptitiously drew his coat about himself to mask his excitement.

"Oh, well then, all right," the professor stammered. Then she launched into a 30-minute lecture about the pair's duties as Head Boy and Head Girl, punctuated with numerous exhortations that the two put their differences behind them for the sake of Hogwarts. Finally, in a swirl of plaid-lined robes, she was off to patrol the train for the remainder of the trip.

Malfoy poked his head out of the door to be sure she was really gone. "Merlin, I didn't think she'd ever leave." He turned back into the cabin, only to find Hermione standing barely inches from him.

"Er," he said. _Go get 'em, tiger!_ he thought sarcastically. "So, um, what's with the new look?"

"Well, Malfoy." Hermione paused and licked her lips seductively. "I spent a lot of time with my old muggle friends this summer, and they told me that they thought I was suffering from classic Good Girl Syndrome, meaning that I was attracted to bad boys. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought they might be right."

Malfoy felt his trousers tighten again. Merlin, did she mean _him_? He shook his head, telling himself that she was just messing with his mind. He decided to give as good as he was getting. He leaned in even closer to her and whispered, "Granger, if you weren't such a cock tease, I'd fuck you right here, right now, so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk for three days." The famous Malfoy Smirk curled his lips.

What happened next was the last thing he expected. He felt fingers on his throbbing manhood, through the expensive cloth of his pants. "You're all talk and no action, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said seductively. "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy lost all control and forgot who he was. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and pushed her against the compartment door, which promptly started to slide open. "Shit!" he exclaimed, catching her before she fell. "What are we going to do about the door? It doesn't have a lock. What if someone walks in on us?"

"I don't know, Malfoy," Hermione responded in a way that was clearly calculated to drive him insane. "Is it a risk you're willing to take in order to have . . . this?" She indicated her lithe body.

Malfoy, driven wild with desire, with shaky hands pulled down the curtain over the window in the door. He again grabbed Hermione and spun her around, pushing her against the window on the opposite side of the cabin. In a fraction of a second, his mouth was everywhere, capturing her lips, sucking her earlobe, biting at the side of her neck. Hermione gasped and threw her head back against the window to allow him access to her throat, where he licked and nibbled. His entire body was pressed against her much smaller one, and they ground their hips together frantically.

Malfoy's hands were almost as busy as his mouth, roaming around her luscious body. He pulled her from the window and tried to lay her down on one of the soft leather banquettes, but before he could get her there, she reached over her head, grabbed the front bar of the luggage rack with both hands, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Malfoy, his hands clasping at the Gryffindor's leather-clad bottom instinctively to keep her from falling, was close to hyperventilating by now, and things only got worse as Hermione let go of the luggage rack with one hand and reached down to undo his fly.

"Wait, Granger," he panted in between frenzied kisses. "Take off your knickers."

"I'm not wearing any," she moaned in his ear before swirling her tongue in it.

Malfoy almost came on the spot. "Oh, Merlin!" he groaned as he felt her pull him out of his pants and guide him inside her.

His knees started to buckle. Then, adding to this series of amazing events, he felt resistance. "Granger, are you . . . ?" was all he managed to get out before Hermione grabbed the luggage rack again with both hands and pushed herself down onto Malfoy, smashing the barrier of her innocence for good.

Hermione's eyes widened in pain, and the world seemed to stop as the mismatched pair looked into each other's eyes. Then the train jerked forward, and Hermione jerked from her reverie and began pulling herself up and pushing herself down from the luggage rack, her slick insides riding slowly up and down Malfoy's swollen shaft. Malfoy swayed with the movement of the train, Hermione's grip on the luggage rack the only thing keeping the two of them from tumbling around the compartment like a pair of dice.

Once he had gotten over his initial sense of shock, Malfoy proved to be an experienced lover, and his hands on Hermione's hips, lifting and lowering her, helped them build a steady rhythm and a pace that began to accelerate exponentially. Just as they both reached their shuddering climax, their intertwined tongues muffling each other's screams of release, the train's whistle blew and the train dove into a tunnel, plunging the train into darkness.

When the train exited the tunnel and they could see again, Draco Malfoy found himself collapsed on the seat across from Hermione Granger, who looked perfectly calm and composed. In fact, she looked as if nothing had happened.

"Malfoy," she began.

"Yes, Granger?" he responded, his head swimming.

"I want the bathroom first in the morning."

Malfoy grinned wickedly. "We could save time and shower together." He sat up straighter and leaned across the aisle, putting his hands on her knees.

"In your dreams, Malfoy."

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So, should I quit while I'm behind, or should I add more chapters and make matters worse? Please read and review. 


	2. Ch 2, What the Hell Happened to Me?

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

The results are in! It seems you like this little tale. I've been trying to come up with a Ron/Hermione sequel to "Stress Will Do That to a Girl" for weeks, and this is what came out instead. Oh well. Maybe someday.

I still do not own the Harry Potter universe. Damn and blast.

I think we need a little calm before the storm.

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

Chapter Two

"What the Hell Happened to Me?"

Malfoy slowly pulled his hands from Hermione's knees. He was so confused by her cold rejection that his head hurt. He put his hands up to his head and discovered that his head really, really hurt. In fact, he felt one hell of a lump on his temple. "_Did I pass out when I hit my head and imagine that whole thing?_" he thought in amazement. He looked around the compartment. There were no visible signs of the frantic rutting that had been taking place just moments ago. Dammit, it had happened, hadn't it? He noticed that his trunk was on the luggage rack and the curtain in the door window was pulled down, but that was hardly definitive proof. Granger might have done that while he was out. He tentatively sniffed the air. The distinctive tang of recent sex failed to assault his nostrils. He slowly glanced down as unobtrusively as possible. Nope, his pants were zipped up. _What the hell happened to me?_

"Did you have a nice nap, Malfoy? How's the head?" Hermione asked, looking up from a muggle fashion magazine she had opened on her lap. "That's quite a bump you've got there." She pulled her wand again, and again Malfoy couldn't see where she was hiding it in her skimpy outfit. His reflexes must be really slow, he thought. Then he realized that she was pointing her wand at him, and he flinched. Hermione sighed and slipped her wand back down her boot. _A-ha!_ "Fine, Malfoy, I won't help you get rid of the lump. Suit yourself."

Malfoy struggled to his feet, the compartment spinning around him. He muttered something about going to splash some water on his face and fled the compartment.

Hermione stretched, her vest riding up past the bottoms of her breasts, and laughed.

* * *

Malfoy staggered through the train to the carriage where the other Slytherins traditionally sat, and ran smack into Blaise Zambini. 

"Hey, Draco, steady on there, mate," Zambini said, grabbing the tall blonde's shoulders. "Merlin, dude!" he exclaimed, catching sight of the purple, egg-sized lump on Malfoy's temple and touching it gently as Malfoy winced. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I . . . um . . . I . . . er … hit my head," Malfoy managed to stammer out.

"I guess so!" said Zambini. "You must've done more than that as well – you've got bruises on your throat, too. If you didn't have that huge lump on your head, I'd swear you'd been banging Granger in the Heads' Compartment." Zambini snorted unattractively, then sobered up as Malfoy went from pale to ghostly. "Seriously, Draco old boy, you'd better see Madame Pomfrey when we get to school."

"Yeah, I guess I'd better," Malfoy agreed reluctantly, shaking his head and amazed at how much it hurt. "I think I may even have blacked out." He started to add, "And man, did I have the weirdest dream," but thought better of it.

Blaise Zambini put on his serious face and nodded sagely. "Why don't you come over to our compartment and rest? We should be arriving in about half an hour. I'm sure Pansy will take care of you." He winked and punched Malfoy in the arm. Malfoy winced and, looking like he was going to be ill, ran for the nearest lavatory. He looked in the mirror and did not like what he saw at all. Sickly pale, an enormous discolored mass on his temple that he swore he could actually see throb, a couple of faint marks on his neck and throat. He gingerly took off his duster, undid his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves. Were those fingermark bruises on his upper arms? This was just too weird. Had they or hadn't they? He looked at his leather duster and noticed that there were decorative metal discs on it that more or less corresponded to the bruises on his neck and arms. Could he have bounced against them while he was passed out?

After a few more minutes of self-examination, Malfoy returned to the Heads' Compartment, relieved to find it empty. He quickly changed into his school robes, finishing just as the train pulled into the station and Hermione came into the compartment in her school robes and with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

Malfoy couldn't bring himself to look at her. Hermione bewitched her trunk and sashayed to the exit, her trunk following her like a puppy dog.

Malfoy followed slowly, his head hurting more every minute. He let Hermione take the lead in directing the students, then the two of them got into the Heads' Carriage for the final leg of the trip to the castle. As they rode in silence, Malfoy kept glancing surreptitiously at Granger. He noticed that, although she was wearing her school robes, she was wearing the high-heeled boots, and didn't seem to have any hose on under them. He wondered momentarily whether she was wearing any knickers, and a familiar tightening pulled at the front of his trousers. He groaned.

"What was that, Malfoy? Are you OK?" Hermione asked.

"No, Mudblood, I'm not OK," Malfoy snapped. _Where the hell had that come from?_ "I've got a dragon-sized egg sticking out of my head, I'm covered with bruises I don't remember getting, and my head feels like there is something living in it that wants to get out but doesn't want to take the time to look for a door."

Hermione drew back into silence for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Malfoy just barely managed to get through the beginning-of-term speeches. He rose from his seat at the Slytherin table by just a few inches to acknowledge the applause as he was announced as Head Boy, and sat back down again. He looked over, and Granger was basking in the glow of the approbation of all of Hogwarts. He rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath as the world swam yet again, and gave up. While the others tucked into the delicious feast, he made his way to the infirmary.

* * *

Two hours later, Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Head Boy, was lying on his enormous new bed in his magnificent new room, all of which he completely failed to notice. Although Madame Pomfrey had greatly reduced the size of the knot on his head, it still throbbed. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Tsk tsk tsk, Mr. Malfoy," he muttered, doing his best impression of the medi-witch as she had surveyed his various and sundry bruises. "Whatever have you been up to?" Thank goodness the pain medication she had given him was beginning to work. He clapped an ice pack to his temple and plunged into sleep. 

Around midnight, he lay in that odd state between sleeping and waking. He realized that he had been dreaming about Granger, but he couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. Although he kept his eyes closed, he thought he sensed someone else in the room.

"Poor baby," came a whispered voice that dripped sensuality. _Definitely asleep. Definitely dreaming._ "You should have waited for me. I would have made you feel all better."

His eyes popped open as he felt a hand reach into his green silk boxers, and a warm, wet mouth engulfed him.

* * *

Well, they can't **all** be full of sex now, can they? Please read and review! 


	3. Ch 3, Are You Sure I'm Not Dreaming?

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

Harry Potter and co.: not mine.

Sorry it's taken so long to update. Can one technically still say that one's computer has crashed when, in fact, one crashed into it, breaking the optical drive drawer? I guess that's a rhetorical question.

Did I mention that this is rated M for Mature? Did I mention that I really, really mean it? If you are not Mature, stop this instant! Go do your homework!

**

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Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Three

"Are You Sure I'm Not Dreaming?"

His head spinning for any number of reasons, Malfoy closed his eyes again because he couldn't think of anything better to do, and came mortifyingly quickly. When he opened his eyes and raised his head, he was surprised to still see the shadowy outline of a female form leaning over him.

"Mudbl . . . Granger?" he whispered. "Is that really you, or am I dreaming again?"

"Lumos," came the quiet reply, and Hermione's wand cast just enough light to throw the room into eerie relief. Hermione knelt on the bed beside Malfoy, clad only in a sheer red nightie that left nothing whatsoever to the imagination.

Malfoy let his head drop back to his pillow, and shook it back and forth slowly. When his eyes opened a third time, Hermione stubbornly persisted in her presence. He licked his lips. "Does this mean that we . . . I mean that you and I . . . the train . . . that it was all real?"

"Malfoy, you are not dreaming," Hermione chided with a touch of petulance. "How do you want me to prove it to you?" She smiled wickedly. "Do you want me to pinch you?" She straddled his midsection with a quick move and tweaked his nipple, causing him to jerk as if he were dreaming he was falling. Her smile widened. "Do you want me to bite you?" She leaned forward suggestively and latched herself onto his neck like a lamprey, sucking, nibbling, and finally biting, leaving a pronounced mark. She settled back slowly onto her haunches, seductively rubbing her gorgeous ass against his taut, bare stomach. Her wicked grin reached devilish proportions as his eyes rolled back into his head. "Do you want me to blow you? Oh wait," she giggled, licking her lips. "Been there."

"Done that," the two finished simultaneously. Hermione giggled again, then there was an awkward silence for a moment as the two looked at each other. Finally, Malfoy spoke. "Granger," he began, "not that I haven't enjoyed this and all, but just what the hell is going on?"

"I told you, Malfoy," Hermione drawled. "I've decided I like bad boys." She slowly started to shift her hips forward and backward, a little at a time, rubbing herself against Malfoy's bare skin. "And you are the very best, or worst, depending on how you look at it, bad boy in all of Hogwarts." Her movements started to get broader, and Malfoy struggled to concentrate. This was an important conversation, but all the blood in his body seemed to be making a mad dash for the southern border.

"So . . . so what," he stammered, using all his willpower to keep his hands at his sides, "do you want from _me_?"

"Well, Malfoy," Hermione cooed. "I want to have a torrid, passionate, purely sexual relationship with you. The traditional muggle Good Girl/Bad Boy fantasy involves sneaking around so that your disapproving friends and family don't discover your secret. It's all supposed to end up with the Good Girl's friends realizing that the Bad Boy is really just misunderstood, everybody decides he's really a Good Guy in fantastic clothing . . . " Here Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but Hermione plunged on. "And they ride off into the sunset together on his motorcycle."

"What the hell is a motor . . . what?"

"But for right now," Hermione finished sensually, moving her hips backward down Malfoy's midsection until, with a satisfied smirk that rivaled one of Malfoy's, she found herself backing up against a raging erection, "I just want you inside of me." And with that, she raised herself up onto her knees and sank back down onto Malfoy, letting him fill her completely. She leaned forward briefly to lick the center of Malfoy's chest, then sat back up, tossing her hair so that the ends whipped him in the face. Malfoy grabbed Hermione's waist and hung on for dear life as she arched her back and rode him, slowly at first and then gradually building to an impossibly frantic pace, her long hair tickling his inner thighs.

After what seemed an eternity – there had been nothing before this, and there would never be anything again – Hermione's breathing started to come in ragged pants, and her muscles contracted around Malfoy, driving him over the edge. His motions mimicked Hermione's as his back arched off the bed, and he cried out in ecstasy as he emptied himself into her.

* * *

Afterwards, they lay in each others' arms, feeling the sweat evaporate from their bodies and their breathing and heart rates return to normal. Hermione reached over and started playing with Malfoy's long silver-blond locks. "So, Malfoy, are you trying to look more like your father? I don't blame you. He's a stoking hottie. I'd fuck him in a hot second. In fact, if you're ever interested in setting up a threesome with your dad, you just let me know." 

Malfoy pulled his pillow over his head as Hermione burrowed her face in his chest, chuckling.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"


	4. Ch 4, You Have to Do Something for Me

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

I'm changing my name to J.K. Rowling. I will begin the Harry Potter ownership transfer papers soon. Until that day, I do not own the Harry Potter universe.

All M for Mature, all the time. You will go blind if you continue to read this story.

**

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Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Four

"You Have to Do Something for Me"

Draco Malfoy awoke with the worst head of his life. Although his eyes were closed, he could tell that it was still pitch black on the other side of his eyelids. Every muscle in his body ached as though he had run a marathon. He felt like he was suffocating. He felt as though there was a 100 pound weight on his chest. He wondered briefly whether he was too young to have a heart attack.

And the dreams! Merlin, the dreams! Add "morning wood" to his list of symptoms. He reached up his left hand to clasp it to his forehead, only to find that there was something in the way, something soft. He felt around tentatively, then with a groan pulled the pillow off his face, still keeping his eyes closed. Well, that explained the "suffocating" part. Through his eyelids, he could tell now that it was, in fact, daylight outside. _What the hell happened to me?_ He still felt like he had a 100 pound weight on his chest. He opened his eyes experimentally, lifted his head off the pillow, and looked down.

There was a 100 pound weight on his chest. A sleeping, tousled, brunette, _naked_ 100 pound weight, with her hand wrapped around his . . . _Holy shit!_ The previous day's (and night's) activities came rushing back at him, and his head flopped back onto the pillow, causing the Gryffindor to rub her face against his chest and start pumping him with her hand. He looked down again. She was still asleep. She was jacking him off _in her sleep!_

Malfoy tried to bring up his hands to shake Hermione awake, but discovered that only his left one was working. He looked around in horror and discovered that his right arm, the one with Hermione asleep on it, was itself asleep. With his operable arm, he grabbed hold of Hermione's arm, as gently as possible. He didn't want to scare her and have her pull it off, he reasoned.

"Mudbl . . . Granger," he whispered. In response, her tongue snaked out to his nipple, and she started pumping him faster and harder. This was crazy. Malfoy shook her arm harder. "Granger!"

Hermione woke with a start and, just for a moment, froze. Then she tilted her head, looked up at Malfoy coquettishly through her long eyelashes, and slowly let her hand continue what it had been doing.

Malfoy released her arm and grabbed her hand, halting its progress. "Wait," he gasped. "Are you OK, Mudbl . . . damn . . . Granger? I mean, are you on something?"

"Oh, isn't that cute, Malfoy! You're worried about me," Hermione said, giggling. "I'm fine. Don't you remember our little conversation last night and on the train? 'Good Girl/Bad Boy'? Does any of this ring any bells?" Although she couldn't move her hand up and down, her individual fingers started doing a little walking of their own.

Malfoy felt what little willpower he had fading. _Damn, for somebody who was a virgin until yesterday, she was really, _really_ good._ "Are you _sure_?" he asked, letting go of her hand so he could tip her chin up to him and look straight into her eyes.

Hermione nodded, kissing the palm of his hand. "I'm 100 percent sure," she answered solemnly. "But you have to do something for me."

_Merlin, here it comes!_ Malfoy sat bolt upright. "What?" he demanded suspiciously, terrifying alternatives crashing through his mind, each worse than the last – betray his father, betray the Dark Lord, be nice to Potter and Weasley. What was he willing to do to keep his access to the finest piece of ass he had ever encountered?

Hermione laughed. "You can stop calling me 'Mudbl . . . '"

Malfoy groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed in relief. Hermione once again took the opportunity to throw a leg over Malfoy's body. She propped herself up on her arms, her pert nipples just barely brushing his chest and her hair falling around his face and arms like a tent as she hovered over him, her lips just an inch from his.

His senses completely overcome, Malfoy reached up and tangled his hands in her hair, crushing her to him in a passionate kiss. Each exploring the other in a dizzyingly intimate way, their tongues battled for dominance. Using her hand to guide him inside her, Hermione once again won the battle and set the pace.

Just as he was about to reach his peak, Malfoy realized in panic that, although his body was telling him to call out her name, his brain didn't know what he was supposed to call her. "M . . . G . . . Her . . . _Shit_!" was what came out, but luckily at that moment Hermione was screaming incoherently too loudly to notice.

* * *

Hermione lay tucked up in the crook of Malfoy's right arm. It was amazing how quickly one could get used to a thing like that. "It's nearly time for class," Hermione whispered sensually. There was no need to whisper something so straightforward sensually; maybe he just thought that everything she did and said was almost unbearably sensual right now. He nodded and protested weakly as Hermione climbed out of the bed, wrapping herself in his sheet, and he gently grabbed hold of her wrist. Hermione paused and looked at him. 

"I have a few questions," Malfoy said, trying to catch her eye.

"Yes?"

"First, what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I think you should continue to call me 'Granger' when others are around, and either 'Granger' or 'Hermione' when we're alone." She smiled mischievously. "You might even try to come up with a nickname if the muse takes you. And may I be so bold as to call you 'Draco' at opportune moments?"

Malfoy nodded. "OK. Second, what the hell happened to my boxers and your nightgown?"

Hermione leaned over and picked up the tattered remains of her sheer red nightie from the floor. "Merlin, did I do that?" he asked, aghast. Hermione nodded.

"I believe you'll find your shorts tangled somewhere in the blanket. I make no warrantees regarding their current state or their fitness for their intended purpose."

Malfoy held up his hands in surrender.

"Anything else?" Hermione asked sweetly, her head cocked to the side.

'Yeah," Malfoy nodded vociferously. "Do I ever get to be on top?"

Hermione grinned in triumph. "Meet me in our common room tonight at eight."


	5. Ch 5, I Can't Wait That Long

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

The court has rejected my petition to change my name to J.K. Rowling, which will prevent me from seeking transfer of the ownership rights in Harry Potter. I am considering appealing.

Sorry it's been more than a week since my last update. (Hangs head.) I will try to update sooner. And wow! Note to self: update nice and early on a weekend and positive reviews will flood your inbox! (Didn't manage it this week, but did make a note.) Thank you all so much! Boy, what an ego boost for what turned out to be a hell of a week. (I hate birthdays, especially ones that end in "0." Actually, it was very nice. But the lead-up was pretty stressful.)

M for Mature. How many times do I have to say it? No one under 21 admitted. Better make that 31. Do I hear 41?

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Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Five

"I Can't Wait That Long"

The first day of classes progressed painfully slowly for Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Head Boy. He looked at his grandfather's pocket watch roughly every seven minutes. _When the hemorrhaging fuck will it be 8:00?_

His last class of the day was a double Potions. He strolled into the back of the classroom and sat with Zambini; Crabbe and Goyle were at the table in front of them. He looked across the room and saw Hermione talking with Potter and Weasley. His pulse quickened. She was paying him no attention, but he could not take his eyes off of her.

The door opened, and Professor Snape stalked into the room. "Don't get too comfortable," he began. A few people stifled giggles. _Since when had anybody gotten comfortable in Snape's class?_ The tittering silenced as the dour professor raised a single eyebrow. "As I was saying," he continued. "I have decided to break up a few of your long-standing partnerships during your last year in my class. You will be working in pairs of my choice on a new term project, various healing potions. I am tired of keeping Madame Pomfrey supplied by myself, as you students seem bound and determined to injure yourselves in new and ingenious ways in ever-increasing numbers. Malfoy and Granger, since I am sure that you will be models of inter-House cooperation as Hogwarts Head Boy and Head Girl this year . . . " Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm as he continued, "you will work together in this class as well." Malfoy's heart leapt. "Crabbe, you're with Potter; Goyle with Weasley." As he went through the whole class, matching up Slytherin with Gryffindor, mortal enemy with mortal enemy, and Zambini's ex-girlfriend with his current girlfriend for whom the first had been dumped, everyone in the classroom knew that they were in for a year of hellfire and brimstone. Snape waved his wand, and the ingredients for the first Potion, for halting bleeding, appeared on the blackboard. Everyone groaned, knowing that this was a double whammy – a fiendishly difficult potion to make, and one that smelled just awful.

The students all reluctantly stood and rearranged themselves, grumbling, according to the evil whim of their sullen professor.

"Well, Granger," Malfoy began loudly with his snidest tone as Hermione carted over her large book bag. "It looks like we'll be stuck with each other for the whole year. Try not to kill me, will you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Make yourself useful, Ferret," she snapped. "Go collect the ingredients for the first Potion."

While Hermione lugged over one of the large cauldrons, Malfoy gathered the ingredients. They met back at the table and sat down, Malfoy chopping ingredients with a sharp knife and Hermione measuring, adding, and stirring.

Their legs touched under the table where nobody could see, and they began having two completely different conversations, one loudly for the benefit of everyone in the class, and the other whispered so that only the other could hear.

"Watch out, Granger! These are very expensive new robes, and I will send you the cleaning bill if you spill anything on them. _I hope you've done your stretches today, baby, because I'm going to do things to you tonight that you've never even dreamed of."_

"Shut up, Malfoy! And watch what you're doing with that knife! _I doubt that very much, handsome, since I've dreamed some pretty amazing things about what you could do to me with those long fingers and sharp tongue."_

Malfoy stifled a groan. He could feel himself getting turned on. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Granger! That can't be right! It's not supposed to smell like that, is it, you stupid woman? _I am going to bury my fingers, tongue, and cock so far inside you tonight that you'll be able to taste me."_

"It smells just fine, Malfoy, you arrogant git! In fact, I can't smell anything at all. All that inbreeding must have given you overly delicate sensibilities. _And I'm going to suck every drop of moisture out of your body. But I can't wait that long. Follow my lead,"_ Hermione whispered, running her hand up Malfoy's thigh and cupping him. She smirked. _"Feels like you're almost as ready as I am."_

Malfoy's eyes widened as Hermione tipped over the cauldron, pouring the hideous, slimy contents over the two of them. "You clumsy bitch!" he screeched, wheeling backwards away from the table.

"Well, if you had helped me balance the cauldron, this wouldn't have happened!" she shrieked.

To the rest of the class, it appeared that the two were about to come to blows. Oh, if they only knew!

Professor Snape stepped between the two warring parties, his voice booming. "This is no way for the Head Boy and Head Girl to act on the first day of classes! One hundred points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and an additional 10 points from Slytherin for language, Mr. Malfoy. Go clean yourselves up." He shook his head in disgust.

Hermione and Malfoy stormed out into the hallway, still hurling epithets at each other. As soon as the door to the classroom closed behind them, Hermione flung herself at Malfoy. He caught her and pressed her up against the wall with his entire body just a few feet from the dungeon door, his lips attacking her mouth as though he was trying to devour her. "Gods, Granger," he moaned, reluctantly pulling his mouth from hers and, taking her by the hand, dragging her down the hallway in search of some privacy, "I've never been this turned on in my life. But Merlin, do we reek!"

"Stop complaining, Malfoy. I still don't smell anything."

Malfoy stopped dead. "You _what_? Shit, maybe you really have lost your senses."

Hermione rolled her eyes and whipped her wand out of her robes. She pointed the wand at herself and then at Malfoy, muttering a cleaning spell. "There now. Is that better?" Malfoy looked down at his clean robes and clothes and caught a whiff of cinnamon. He nodded approvingly.

"Good. Can we get back to the matter at . . . _hand_ . . . now?" she asked, pausing suggestively as she ran her fingers up the front of his pants.

Malfoy nodded dumbly and grabbed her hand again. "Where?" he panted, looking around the hall and trying to decide where to lead her. To his astonishment, she grabbed the front of his robes and dove into a small alcove, ducking behind a suit of armor.

"Right here. I can't wait, baby. Give it to me _now_!"

"Are you out of your fucking mind, woman? In the hallway, 15 feet from the dungeon?"

Hermione reached around him and grabbed his ass with both hands, smashing his pelvis against her desperately. "Come on, baby," she whispered in his ear, "haven't you always wanted to fuck someone with the imminent possibility of having the whole class catch you? Doesn't the danger make you hot?"

Draco wasn't sure whether he would lose his mind or his control first, but with grasping hands he raised Hermione's skirt,discovering that she was wearing suspenders and a thong. His hands fumbling, he cursed under his breath. "They're caught!"

Hermione already had him out of his pants. "Just tear them!" she demanded in frustration.

Malfoy, already well past the breaking point, felt the delicate silk fabric shred under his hands, and with yet another moan he lifted her slightly and impaled her with a frantic thrust of his hips. Like a madman, he pounded her against the wall, knowing with an undeniable and terrifying thrill that only a foot of stone wall separated them from their classmates and, even better, Professor Severus Snape. "I'll show you inter-House cooperation," he muttered with a particularly sharp thrust.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Suddenly, Hermione's breath started coming in ragged pants. "Oh Malfoy, there, there, _there_!" She lifted her right leg and wrapped it around the back of his left thigh, driving him even further inside of her, her fingers pulling at his hair. "Malfoy, baby, oh, oh, _DRACO_!" she cried out. In terror, Malfoy covered her mouth with his own to keep her from screaming, and then spasms shook his whole body, and he had to work just as hard to keep himself from screaming.

After a few seconds, Malfoy rolled away from Hermione and set his back against the alcove wall. He leaned down, his hands on his shaking knees, trying to catch his breath. As he arranged himself and his clothing, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair and glanced at Hermione, who pointed her wand at herself, muttered a few words, and looked fresh as a daisy.

"Gods, Granger," Malfoy growled, pulling Hermione to his chest and kissing the top of her head. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Hermione smiled as she put both hands on his chest. "I'm beginning to get some idea."

Malfoy looked around the suit of armor to ensure that the coast was clear, then brought Hermione out into the hallway and led her toward the dungeon classroom. His hand on the doorknob, he bent down for one more stolen kiss before opening the door.

Just as he was turning the enormous, ancient handle, Hermione said matter-of-factly, "By the way, Malfoy. Not that you haven't been displaying it all day, but you might want to put a concealing charm on that enormous hickey. You look like you've been fucking a vampire. See you at 8."


	6. Ch 6, It Might as Well Say Bad Boy

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

I find it highly unlikely that anybody is going to mistake me for J.K. Rowling any time soon.

M for Mature. In addition to going blind, you will certainly go to hell if you continue reading. I am running out of humorous ways of saying it.

**

* * *

Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Six

"It Might as Well Say 'Bad Boy' in Flaming Letters"

At 7:55, Draco Malfoy was almost ready. As the huge bell in the tower tolled eight, he was sitting on the sofa in the common room, dressed in green silk pajama bottoms and nothing else, a glass of fire whiskey in his hand. Everything was perfect. Flowers and candles sat on every available surface, and there were soft pillows placed just so on and around the bearskin rug in front of the fire, which crackled merrily. It had taken him 20 minutes to make the damned pillows look like they had been tossed casually.

He stared expectantly at the door to Hermione's room, willing it to open and the goddess inside to emerge. _Wait. What?_ _It's just sex, Draco,_ he reminded himself. _Oh yeah? Then why did I just spend a week's allowance on roses? I can't wait to have to explain to Father why I need extra money this week._ He took a sip of fire whiskey.

8:05.

8:10. By this time, Malfoy was beginning to fidget.

8:15. He got up and paced around the room, trying to busy himself with rearranging flowers and candles. _Where is that cursed woman? If she's just fucking around with my head, then I shall surely kill her._

He had nearly finished his drink and, fortified with Liquid Courage, was about to cross to Hermione's door and knock on it, even knock it down if necessary, when the door opened. Malfoy's mouth hung agape. There, standing in stark relief against the bright light from her room, her arms spread up to the sides of the doorframe, was the goddess. _His_ goddess. She wore a low-cut white nightdress made of gossamer silk that pooled on the floor around her bare feet. Her hair was done up in a loose, pre-Raphaelite style, with spiraling tendrils surrounding her face and begging to be kissed at her neck.

With a supreme effort of will, Malfoy forced his legs to move. He walked across to Hermione and, taking her hand, he kissed it, nuzzling against her fingers. "Gra . . . Hermione . . ." He swallowed. "Would you care for a drink?" He indicated a silver ice bucket. "I have a '90 Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame chilling. Hopefully my father's house elves won't rat me out."

"Fire whiskey will do just fine, please."

He shrugged, trying not to be offended, and poured her a stiff drink. While he was at it, he poured himself another one as well. He handed her her glass and raised his in toast. "To what shall we drink?"

"To mind-blowing sex," Hermione said. She clinked her glass loudly against Malfoy's, causing him to wince at the sound of the two 200-year-old hand-blown pieces of leaded glass colliding. Then she downed her drink in one go, threw the glass into the fireplace, and attacked Malfoy with her hands, her lips, and a couple of body parts that he didn't see coming.

Malfoy struggled to disentangle himself from the clutches of the young witch. "G . . . _Hermione_. Wait. I've gone to a lot of trouble here for you tonight, and the least you could do is acknowledge my efforts. Look around you, woman." He folded his arms across his chest petulantly.

Hermione looked around the room at the dozens of fresh roses and the soft glow of firelight and candlelight. "Very nice, Malfoy. The little seduction scene is very sweet. But if you haven't figured it out already, I'm a sure thing. I'm not trying to get you to fall in love with me; I just want you to fuck my brains out. And if you're not up to the task, I'm pretty sure that I can take a short walk down to the dungeon and find another Slytherin – student or _professor_ – who is." She put her hands on her hips, which somehow served to accentuate her cleavage, and raised an eyebrow.

Malfoy's mouth moved up and down, but no sound came out. He took a large gulp of fire whiskey. "You're a bitch, you know that, Granger?"

She smiled beatifically. "Yeah, but I'm the best fuck you've ever had."

Malfoy tilted his head to one side, pursed his lips, and nodded, conceding the point. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Since you were a virgin as of," he paused, thinking, "holy hell, _yesterday_, where exactly did you learn to . . . ?"

"Fuck like a whore?" Hermione finished sweetly. "Porno movies."

"Pyro whats?"

"Porno movies. Muggles make movies, which are like long magical photographs, of people having sex, and then they watch them to enhance sexual excitement. One of my muggle friends gave me one for my birthday, and I watched it many, many times. For the educational value, of course."

"Of course. So, what exactly did you learn?"

"Well, for one thing, I learned that men get turned on when women talk dirty."

"I gathered that much."

"Was I right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do men get turned on when women talk dirty?" Hermione took a step toward Malfoy and ran her manicured fingertips lightly across his chest, smiling as she saw the hairs on his arms stand up. "More to the point, do _you_, Draco Malfoy, get turned on when _I_ talk dirty?"

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I don't know," he lied. "Try me."

Her nightdress whispering sensuously about her, Hermione circled Malfoy slowly, her fingernails leaving faint trails across the exposed skin of his toned chest and perfect abs. "Let me see you, Malfoy," she purred. "Take your pants off. I want to watch you get hard." Malfoy, already well beyond that point, complied instantly, standing before her naked. He had worked hard on his physique, and he was very proud of his body. He had never had any complaints about it.

Hermione's hands wandered lower as she passed around his back, and she pressed her fists into the hollows where his thighs met the bottoms of his chiseled _glutei maximi_. "Mmmm," she murmured appreciatively. "If Quidditch can do that for your ass, maybe I should try it."

"From what I've been able to see, Granger, your ass is just fine the way it is. But you should definitely try Quidditch – it's a real rush."

"I've always been afraid to fly," Hermione admitted matter-of-factly, "but it sounds like the closest thing in the wizarding world to riding off into the sunset on the back of a motorcycle, so you just might be able to talk me into trying it." Realizing that they were getting off topic, Hermione added, "So, have you ever fucked anybody while flying?"

Malfoy shook his head, taken aback. "Um, no."

"Well, I think we should put that on our little list, don't you? Tonight, I'm going to take you into my mouth and suck you so hard that your brains are going to come out." She watched in triumph as Malfoy's erection quivered. "Then, during the next full moon, you give me a flying fuck."

Malfoy shook his head. "No."

Hermione stopped and looked up into Malfoy's eyes. "_No?_"

Malfoy adopted his petulant face again. "Tonight, I lead. You promised."

"Well," Hermione said, removing her hands from Malfoy's body and taking a step backward. "A promise is a promise." She reached up and, with a minimum of effort and movement, pulled her nightdress off her shoulders and let it swirl to the floor. Now it was Malfoy's turn to look over every inch of Hermione's body. He circled her like a toreador. He had never heard the term "aerobics," but he certainly approved of whatever she was doing. Her frame was small and strong (a fact that he knew from intimate experience), but with curves in all the right places.

"Nice tattoo, Granger," Malfoy said, his finger tracing the intricate Celtic knot at the base of her spine. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

"You too," she responded, rubbing her fingers lightly across his muscular forearm.

"Technically, the Dark Mark isn't a tattoo, it's more like a brand," Malfoy pointed out, then paused. "Doesn't it frighten you?"

"No, I knew. It just makes you even hotter. It might as well say "Bad Boy" in flaming letters."

"If the Dark Lord caught me with you, he'd kill me, you know that, don't you? Well, torture me, then kill me. Not to mention what my father would do."

Hermione nodded. "But does that turn you on more or less than fucking within earshot of Professor Snape?"

Malfoy pondered for a second. "Maybe even more. If I were any more turned on at this moment, you'd be wiping me off most of your body right now."

Mustering the last of his self-control to keep from just knocking her down and nailing her to the floor, Malfoy drew Hermione into his arms and kissed her slowly, his tongue exploring every inch of her lips and mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, he led her over to the carefully arranged pillows in front of the fire and laid her back on the bearskin rug. Curious as to what it would feel like to let Malfoy take the lead, Hermione resisted the urge to take control of the situation and instead encouraged him with small sounds of pleasure.

Gravity having solved the problem of his being nearly a foot taller than she was, Malfoy was free to let his hands and mouth roam wherever they wanted. He kissed her neck and throat, then cupped one breast in his hand while taking the other nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue swirling over the erect point, his teeth tugging slightly. Hermione sank her fingers into his hair and moaned as he switched sides and began the process all over again.

Malfoy took his time, kissing down her stomach, lavishing attention with his tongue and teeth on her belly button ring, kissing lower and lower while his hands moved up her thighs, spreading them. Hermione writhed in delight as he bent her knees, placing them over his shoulders, and then his mouth was on her. His tongue fluttering like a butterfly's wings against her clit, he slowly slid first one, then two, long, graceful fingers in and out of her. "Come for me, baby," he whispered when he could tell she was close.

Within seconds, she was on the edge, and at precisely the right moment he removed one finger and crooked the other inside her, hitting exactly the right spot, and she tumbled over into the abyss. Using just his tongue, he laved her for a few seconds more as she returned to earth. Then he started kissing his way back up her body, keeping her knees over his shoulders, pushing the lower half of her body farther and farther back, bending her nearly in half, so that when he finally entered her, he was able to achieve the angle of maximum penetration.

Hermione cried out. She really did feel as though she could taste Malfoy in the back of her throat, he was so deep inside her.

"Let's see if your pyro moves taught you this little trick," Malfoy said as his hips began moving.

"Porno movies," Hermione corrected breathlessly.

"Whatever. OK, keeping your legs back over my shoulders, just tilt your hips down a little so I'm sliding against your clit with every thrust. There! Can you feel that?"

In response, Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head, and her head lolled back into the pillow as she just gave herself over to the overwhelming sensation. Wave after wave after wave of orgasm washed over her, building to an earth-shattering, screaming climax that left the two of them sprawled in front of the fire, nearly unconscious.

* * *

"Draco?" 

His eyes popped open at the sound of his given name whispered, as opposed to screamed, but he was too knackered to form a coherent sentence, or even a word. "Hmmm?"

"I thought you might like to know that I spent 20 minutes getting the 'dramatically back-lit' effect just right for you before I came out of my room." Malfoy smiled contentedly, drew Hermione even closer against his chest, and then he was out.


	7. Ch 7, Whoops

**Good Girl Gone Wild **

By TraceyI

After hours and hours of research in dark records offices, I am forced to conclude that J.K. Rowling and I were not switched at birth, and that I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews. I would love to hit 100 before I'm done. Help me out here, folks!

Did I mention that this is rated M for Mature? Just checking.

**

* * *

Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Seven

"Whoops"

At some point during the night, Malfoy woke, shivering. The fire had died out, and Hermione's body, draped across his, was leaving some important bits uncovered. Rather than wake her, Malfoy gently picked Hermione up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom.

He laid her naked body on the bed and crawled under the covers next to her. In her sleep, she curled up next to him. Their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. His right arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, and her right arm reached across his chest. Her head was tucked just under his chin; her left leg was wrapped behind his right leg; and her right leg, bent at the knee, was left at exactly the right level for her thigh to just barely graze against the Malfoy Family Jewels, which for the moment were getting some much needed rest. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as the case may be), the baby, as it were, did not get to sleep through the remainder of the night, as at some point just before dawn, he awoke to find himself imbedded firmly in the Gryffindor Princess, who was just about to finish him off.

* * *

When Malfoy woke up in the morning, his moment of wondering whether it had all been a dream was much briefer than it had been the day before. He opened his eyes and found Hermione looking back at him. He stretched luxuriously. 

"Point of order, Granger."

Hermione giggled. "The Chair recognizes the blonde delegate with the hot ass."

"Even if you are inexperienced, it is considered bad form to scream another man's name during sex."

"I never!"

"Yes, you did. And just who is this Jesus Christ bloke, anyway?"

Hermione was laughing so hard that she fell out of bed. When she tried to get up, she stumbled and found herself flat on her back on the floor, looking at the ceiling. "Merlin, Malfoy, I think you really did fuck me so hard I can't walk. The whole left side of my body is asleep!"

Malfoy's face appeared over the edge of the bed. "Sounds like you need a hot bath." He grinned wickedly. "Time to try out our new Heads' bathtub!"

He disappeared into their shared bathroom, and soon the merry sound of dozens of taps filled the suite. A thought struck Malfoy. "I wonder how many Head Boys and Head Girls have used this tub together," he mused. "I hope the house elves used a good disinfecting charm."

After performing his own ablutions, Malfoy returned to his bedroom, finding Hermione, in all her naked glory, still lying on the floor. "Still numb?" he asked pleasantly. She nodded with a smile. He reached down and, taking her right hand in both of his, pulled her up from the floor. When she got to her feet and tried to stand, he had to catch her, as her left leg completely went out from under her. "G . . . Hermione, are you OK?" he asked, with what sounded like genuine concern, as he picked her up bridal-style. "Should I take you to Madame Pomfrey?"

Hermione gave his nipple a tug, causing him to nearly drop her. "Don't be stupid, Malfoy. If you bend somebody up like a pretzel and then bang on the same part of their body for 20 minutes, somebody is going to end up with a pinched nerve or two. Not that I'm complaining."

Malfoy shrugged, carried the Gryffindor into the bathroom, and deposited her gently into the steaming waters, stepping in next to her. "I went heavy on the 'relaxation' and 'healing' taps," he said, pulling her into his lap, "because I thought we could both use it. Is the fragrance too strong for you?"

Hermione sniffed the swirling mist. "You know, I still don't smell anything. I must be coming down with a cold."

Malfoy squinted down at her. "Could you smell all the roses last night?" She shook her head. "What about the candles? You certainly acted as though they were having an effect on you."

"What do you mean?"

Malfoy blushed. I'll say it again. _Draco Malfoy blushed_. "They were pheromone candles. If you ever tell a soul that I have made purchases at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, I shall deny it and hex you."

"Yeah, because I have nothing better with which to blackmail you," Hermione teased as her good hand slipped under the water. She took a deep breath, and the rest of her slipped off his lap and followed. Luckily for both of them, the length of time Hermione could hold her breath and the length of time Malfoy could control himself without exploding in her mouth were roughly equivalent.

When Hermione surfaced, gasping for breath, Malfoy tried to draw her to a kneeling position, straddling his lap. "That's not going to work, Malfoy," she said, shaking her head. "I still can't feel my left leg."

"Then how did you . . . ?"

"I was floating."

"Oh." His hands moved down in the water, and he began massaging various parts of her body experimentally. "Can you feel this?"

"No."

"This?"

"No."

"How about this?"

"Jesus Christ!"

* * *

And so it went. Hermione set a term goal of having sex in every room in the castle. ("A girl's got to have a dream, Malfoy.") During the first two weeks of class, the randy pair hit every room on the dungeon level during Potions class except the Potions classroom itself, to which they were forced to sneak back at night. By the end of the second week, their excuses for disappearing from class had gone from the extremely inventive cauldron-tipping to the mundane "Professor, I need to go to the lavatory"; "Me too." Using a scientific approach, they were also able to slash their out-of-class time to less than five minutes by making a few undetectable changes to their school uniforms to allow for easy access and by forswearing undergarments. 

While they were working their way from the bottom of Hogwarts Castle up during the day, they decided to work their way down from the top at night, starting with the Astronomy Tower, where they had sex on the two-foot-wide, railingless stone ledge. Hermione, always thinking, had carefully reminded Malfoy not to follow his usual pattern and roll to the right after he climaxed. "Maybe we should face the other way," he had suggested logically, "so that, if I forget and roll to the right in the heat of the moment, we'll land on the floor of the Tower instead of plunging ten storeys to our deaths."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Although Hermione still ate all her meals with Ron and Harry, and sometimes Ginny, they could not understand why she was always so anxious to get back to her own room. "I'm studying," she continually insisted.

"But Herms, we're only two weeks into classes," Rom pouted. "Just how much can you possibly have to do?" She always responded with long-winded diatribes about getting an early start on the term's work, as well as the onerous responsibilities of being Head Girl.

On Saturday morning, Harry and Ron showed up at the portrait hole to the Heads' Suite, begging Hermione to come down to the Quidditch pitch with them. "I can't," she called through the door. "Homework."

"Then let us come in," Harry pleaded. "We haven't even seen your swank new rooms yet!"

"Not right now, guys. I'm working on a very delicate project with Malfoy for Potions, and I can't even open the door. I'll meet you in the Great Hall for lunch." Harry and Ron shrugged and went outside, feeling a little rejected. Little did they know that, while they had been talking, Hermione had been bent over at the waist, hanging on to the coat rack for dear life, as Malfoy thrust into her from behind, chuckling as he heard Potter and Weasley's voices fade down the hallway, talking about how miserable it must be for their poor friend to have to spend so much time with "that ferret bastard."

The following Monday during Potions class, Hermione was in the boys' lavatory, on her knees, when the door opened. She immediately grabbed the figure that came in, unzipping his pants. "What the hell took you so long, Malfoy?" she demanded angrily. "Don't you know better than to keep me waiting by now? And when did you start wearing underwear again? And why is it . . . red?" Suddenly, she realized that something was wrong. The zipper was several inches lower than she was used to having it. She moved her eyes slowly up the body she was kneeling in front of, and found glasses, black hair, and barely controlled rage looking down at her, with a shock of red hair peering over its shoulder.

"Whoops."


	8. Ch 8, Riding off into the Sunset

**Good Girl Gone Wild**

By TraceyI

Yay! I hit 100 reviews before posting the final chapter! I'm very excited. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this and tell me what you think. I have tried to respond to each comment (or at least each one for which there was a website link; I'm a little leery about responding from my personal email address). Oh, and I finally got a negative comment. :-( I'm totally fine with constructive criticism, and I appreciate the time it took the person to read and review, but I've been accused of "raping canon." If one wanted to only read stories that are completely canon and not smutty, then why on earth would one decide to read a story with this description: "Hermione decides that she's a good girl who likes bad boys. AU, takes place in 7th year, HGDM. Rated M, and I mean it!" I thought that was pretty clear. Oh well.

On another note, I spend a lot of time writing disclaimers. Funny disclaimers, serious disclaimers. Do you know how much these disclaimers are worth? Absolutely dick. Saying "I'm not J.K. Rowling, and I don't own Harry Potter" is fine and dandy, but nobody really thinks for a moment that you _are_ J.K. Rowling if, for instance, you have Hermione and Draco screwing in the train on the way to Hogwarts. And saying "I mean no infringement of J.K. Rowling's copyrights," at least under U.S. Copyright Law, is roughly tantamount to saying "I did not mean to kill that guy when I whacked him in the head with an ax," so I don't know why I bother.

There are authors who frown upon fan fiction based on their works. To date, it appears that J.K. Rowling has not joined their ranks. If she sends a cease and desist letter to this website, then the game is over, and I believe the website will crash when the nearly quarter million "Harry Potter"-based stories are removed. If she sends a cease and desist letter to me, I'll just put the deed to my house and the registration to my car in an envelope and mail them to her to save time and effort.

But I digress. Does anybody besides me want to know how this ends?

**

* * *

Good Girl Gone Wild **

Chapter Eight

"Riding off into the Sunset"

Hermione tried to get to her feet, but stumbled. Her leg had fallen asleep again. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Ah, the price she had to pay for so much great sex.

Harry caught her roughly by both arms. "You fucking whore!" he screamed, shaking her. "How could you do this to me? You're supposed to be our best friend, and you are quite literally sleeping with the enemy!"

Hermione jerked herself from Harry's grasp. "It's only sex, Harry," she said dismissively. "You should try it some time."

Harry's voice boomed down the hall to the Potions classroom. "How could you be fucking that despicable ferret, you contemptible slut! You _hate_ Malfoy!" All eyes in the classroom swiveled to the blonde in question, who had been prevented from making his usual escape from the classroom by the machinations of Professor Snape.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Harry, but I don't hate Malfoy. Face it – no girl in the school hates Draco Malfoy. Every girl wants him, and I've got him. Or maybe your problem is that you want him, too."

Harry was apoplectic with fury, and he shoved Hermione, who stumbled and fell into the hard tile wall.

"Steady on there, Mate." For the first time, Ron's voice wafted down the hallway. He had been struck dumb until this point. "Shit, Harry, don't hurt her! Look, her nose is bleeding!"

With a swirl of robes, Malfoy raced out the door and down the hallway, ignoring Professor Snape's protests. Upstairs in the Great Hall, rubies and emeralds tumbled to the bottoms of their respective hourglasses, as the professor tried impotently to control the chaos that was his class that afternoon.

Malfoy skidded to a halt in front of the three Gryffindors. He took one look at the blood on Hermione's face, and then Harry was sprawled on the floor, clutching his own bloody nose, as Malfoy tried to shake the pain from his hand.

After Ron had helped Harry to his feet, the two remaining thirds of the Golden Trio advanced on the Slytherin. "What did you do to her?" the dark-haired wizard demanded dangerously. "Did you put some sort of spell on her?"

"My innate charms empty knickers, Potter," Malfoy spat. "I don't need to use artificial ones. Granger wanted me as much as I wanted her."

Harry lunged at Malfoy, his fists flying, but he was drawn up short when he found the tip of Malfoy's wand pointed between his eyes. "Give me an excuse, Potter."

"Bloody hell!" Ron suddenly exclaimed from behind Harry. "Hermione!"

Harry and Malfoy both turned just in time to see Hermione's eyes roll back into her head as she started shaking and collapsed to the floor.

Harry and Ron just stood there as Draco rushed forward. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his leather wallet, which he struggled to insert between Hermione's gnashing teeth.

"What are you doing, trying to choke her to death?" Ron wailed. "She's already doing that on her own!"

"She's having a seizure, you fucking moron. I'm trying to keep her from biting her tongue!"

Malfoy bent down and scooped Hermione's convulsing form into his arms, trying desperately to hold her to his chest. "It's OK, Hermione," he whispered soothingly. "I'm here, baby. You're going to be OK." He turned to face the door. "Get out of my way." His tone would brook no argument, and the two Gryffindors let him by.

They watched him disappear down the hallway in utter confusion and disbelief.

Finally, Ron broke the silence. "Harry, what the bloody fuck just happened? Did he call her 'Hermione'?"

"And 'baby.'"

* * *

Three hours later, three young men were sitting sullenly in Professor Dumbledore's office, one raven-haired, one silvery blond, and one flamingly redheaded. They had just been told that they each had a month's detention with Professor Snape. 

There was a knock at the door, and Madame Pomfrey entered. "Good evening, Headmaster," she said in her professional way. "Messrs. Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley." All nodded their greetings.

"How is Ms. Granger, Poppy?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "She is not well. I believe she has cancer, a tumor in the frontal lobe of her brain. May I ask the boys some questions about her symptoms?" The professor turned to the boys in question and nodded for her to continue.

"We know she had at least one _grand mal _seizure. Has she suffered from any anosmia?" The three looked at her blankly. "Loss of sense of smell?" Harry and Ron shrugged their shoulders.

"Yes." The others' eyes all turned to Malfoy. "She thought she had a cold. She couldn't smell the mess she spilled on us in Potions class, and she couldn't smell . . . other things as well."

Madame Pomfrey gestured that he should elaborate.

Malfoy coughed and fidgeted in his seat. "A roomful of roses, heavily scented bathwater, candles." His grin achieved superhuman smugness as he watched Ron restrain Harry.

Madame Pomfrey made a note with her quill. "Impaired judgment, personality or mental changes, loss of inhibitions?"

"She was fucking Malfoy!" Harry exploded.

"Mr. Potter, please watch your language," Professor Dumbledore cautioned him. "We are not here to accuse anyone of anything, only to determine the extent of Ms. Granger's symptoms so that Madame Pomfrey may treat her accurately."

"Mr. Malfoy, who initiated your . . . relationship?"

"She did."

"You lying bastard!" Harry grunted through his teeth, earning another warning from the Headmaster.

"Anything else?"

"She has a new tattoo and a few new piercings." Harry and Ron looked at each other. They hadn't noticed. "And she swears like a sailor."

Madame Pomfrey took notes furiously. "Hemiplegia? I'm sorry, any paralysis, particularly one-sided?"

Again, Harry and Ron shrugged, and Malfoy coughed. "A couple of times, she's woken up and fallen getting out of bed." Madame Pomfrey looked up from her note-taking, Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Harry and Ron leaned forward angrily. "I tried to get her to go to the infirmary, but she just laughed it off, blaming it on, er, too much sex." Ron once again was forced to restrain Harry.

Madame Pomfrey removed her glasses, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck, and rubbed her temples. "Mr. Malfoy, just how much sex is too much sex?"

"Do I have to answer that question?"

"The amount of damage done by the tumor will be directly proportional to the amount of change to her personality. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, had you known Ms. Granger to be promiscuous previously?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other uneasily, but Malfoy cut them off before either could speak. "She was a virgin until two weeks ago. To the best of my knowledge, she has not been promiscuous; she was only having sex with me. And to answer your earlier question, on average, three to four times per night, once or twice in the morning before class, and at least once during class hours."

Ron lost his battle, and Harry surged out of his seat, his hands seeking Malfoy's throat. Because Professor Dumbledore had confiscated all three wands, Malfoy had only his fists to defend himself, and was about to paste Harry with a roundhouse punch when the booming voice of Professor Dumbledore warned them that they were both about to be expelled. Harry reluctantly returned to his seat.

* * *

Hermione was in the infirmary receiving intensive treatment for ten days, and she was allowed no visitors during that time. Things had almost returned to normal in the castle by the time she was released. The first thing she did was go in search of Malfoy. She found him sitting in the courtyard by himself. Nervously, she walked over to him. "M . . . Draco, may I sit down?" He looked up at her wordlessly, shrugged, and wiped some newly-fallen leaves off the bench next to him. 

The two faced forward, unable to look at each other, and kept about eight inches of space on the bench between them. Finally, Hermione spoke. "I'm sorry."

Malfoy looked up in surprise. "For what?"

"For using you like that."

"Granger, you had a _tumor_ in your _brain_. You weren't responsible for what happened. You never would have wanted anything to do with me if you hadn't been sick."

"That's just the thing, Malfoy. The way my tumor affected me was to get rid of my inhibitions."

Malfoy looked at her quizzically. "I don't understand."

Hermione took a deep breath. "The cancer didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Malfoy. It just made me incapable of drawing the line for what was OK for Hermione Granger and what was not. We all have impulses and desires every day of our life, Malfoy, and we tamp down on many of them because they are inappropriate. For a little while there, I lost that ability."

Malfoy let this settle in for a few moments. "Are you trying to tell me that you thought about having sex with me before you got sick, but you just rejected those thoughts?"

Hermione blushed. Malfoy was surprised how attractive he found it when she blushed. "Well, you are the best-looking boy in the school."

Malfoy did not have a clue in the world how to respond to this piece of news, so he simply did not. After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, he managed to mumble, "I've missed you."

Hermione sighed and inched closer to him on the bench. "I know that everything we did was wrong, but I really miss waking up in your arms every morning."

Malfoy put his arm around her shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're feeling better." Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, snuggling comfortably into the crook of his right arm.

They sat like that for a long time, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began its descent toward the lake.

Finally, Malfoy spoke. "Are you ready?" he whispered.

"Ready for what?" she responded suspiciously.

The Famous Malfoy Smirk made its first reappearance in nearly two weeks. "Tonight is the full Harvest Moon. _Accio_ Nimbus 2001."

* * *

When she described it later to her muggle friends, she would just tell them that she had ridden off into the sunset on the back of his motorcycle. 

_Fin_

* * *

This one's for Laura, who is going to kick that tumor's ass so hard that it's not going to know what hit it. Not that I'd ever tell her that I write stuff like this. 

So, did anybody see it coming? Did I ruin it? Any votes on whether I should have added this:

Madame Pomfrey: Oh, and Mr. Malfoy? Congratulations. You're going to be a father.

Nah. That's too much.


End file.
